


Desperate Times

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, X-Factor (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3144893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rictor joked about sleeping with Quicksilver, it wasn't so much a joke as an exaggeration of what actually happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate Times

**Author's Note:**

> I just...yeah. I have a lot of feelings about early X-Factor volume 2.

Rictor felt like he was carving a path down a particular set of Mutant Town sidewalks, and the only reason he felt that way was because he wasn't supposed to go where he was going. 

Not that anyone on the team said anything. They all tried to be normal, but Rictor could sense, underneath that, a certain type of pity. They felt sorry for him, because he'd lost his powers, and they hadn't. 

It wasn't only his struggle to bear. Thousands of mutants had been depowered. That didn't make it hurt any less. So he had to get out of X-Factor headquarters for a bit. 

(Whenever he left, Layla gave him a knowing look and said nothing. He liked that she was refreshingly honest, even if he didn't like her, or like that her knowing things made her kind of a pain in the ass.) 

He knocked on a door that wasn't X-Factor's, and it opened, and a voice said, “Do come in.” 

And he went, because what else was he supposed to do? 

*

“I take it you're still on the fence,” Pietro said, reclining in his chair and considering a small donut. 

Rictor leaned forward in his chair. Every time he came around, Pietro offered him a donut, and every time, Rictor said he wasn't hungry. The donuts looked tasty, but he wondered when Pietro became a fan. They seemed so not-Pietro-like. 

“The thing is,” Rictor said, “all you have to offer is maybes.” 

“That is better than no hope at all,” Pietro pointed out. He straightened and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk between them. The donut in his hand had disappeared. “That is what I'm offering you, Rictor. Hope.” 

“Because you care so much,” Rictor scoffed, but something uncurled in his chest. The urge to make the earth shake, to make anything shake and fall apart. 

“Do you know,” Pietro said, narrowing his eyes, “how lucky you are? How many mutants would kill for the opportunity I'm offering you? How many mutants are not able to turn their powers on-and-off, how for many of them, it is an essential part of their very being, intertwined with every second of every day? Yours are not, and yet you can't live without them.” 

“Who said I can't live without them?” Rictor asked. He couldn't look away. Pietro's expression had twisted into something dark. Gone was the mask of friendliness that he'd affected at meetings previously. 

“I can see you, Rictor,” he said. “Not having your powers kills you. You don't know what you are without them.” 

“You're assuming a lot,” Rictor said. His hands clenched around the armrests of his chair. 

“Fine,” Pietro sneered. “Leave. I'll offer my gift to someone who truly needs it.” 

Rictor stood and, without a word, walked out of the office and slammed the door behind him. 

*

“How's Quickie?” Jamie asked over dinner. 

Rictor nearly choked. “What d'you mean?” 

“I know you talk to him,” Jamie said. Rictor opened his mouth to deny it but Jamie added, “Layla knows things.” 

“Of course she does,” Rictor muttered. 

“Anyway,” Jamie said, “it's to our advantage that we know what he's up to. Cyclops thinks he's dangerous, and I'm not inclined to disagree. Also, I have no idea what's going on in his head, other than that I don't like it.” 

Rictor frowned. “You used to work with him, though.” 

“We've both changed,” Jamie said. “I mean, he lost his sister and his powers. I'm guessing that changes a man. He was always kind of an ass, though. But at least back then, he was a decent person. Now, I'm not so sure.” 

“He seems like he wants to help.” 

“By hurting people.” 

“Maybe he's not...” Rictor didn't know how he meant to finish that sentence. In his right mind? Well? 

“He's hiding something,” Jamie said. “That's all I really know.” He sighed. “Just be careful.” 

“I think I might've burned that bridge,” Rictor admitted. 

“Ah, well,” Jamie said with a shrug. “It was either that or possibly explode from terrigen crystal exposure. And I don't want an exploded teammate.” 

*

Rictor couldn't sleep. His conversation with Pietro kept running through his head. He could turn his powers off. Pietro had also lost his powers. That's why he'd stolen the crystals, embedded them in his body. 

Pietro couldn't turn his powers off. He didn't just run fast. He was fast. 

Rictor tossed on his jacket and hit the streets. A few minutes later he found himself outside Pietro's door, hand raised to knock, not sure if he should or if he should just go back home. 

He knocked. 

The door opened, revealing a still-dressed Pietro, looking annoyed. “I don't do after hours,” he said, making to close the door, but Rictor pushed it, and Pietro, back, stepping into the office. 

“I'm sorry,” he said, closing the door behind him. 

Pietro crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry for what, Rictor? You are within your rights to refuse, even if it's foolish.” 

“I could die,” Rictor pointed out. 

“I could have,” Pietro said, “but that didn't matter. I was judged worthy. And you--” 

“Cut the worthy crap,” Rictor snapped, advancing on him. “You have no idea if it'll work or not and who it'll work on. It only works on you because you shoved those damn crystals in your chest.” 

Pietro backed into the desk. Rictor grabbed him by the shoulders. Pietro smirked at him. “You're upset because the only choice you have isn't the one you wanted.” 

“I'm upset,” Rictor said, “because my powers disappeared for no reason and the person responsible hasn't come forward and no one's got a clue how to fix it except you, and your solution is to touch people and hope something good happens.” 

“I can touch you,” Pietro said. 

Rictor jumped back. 

Pietro laughed, but his eyes were burning with anger. “I wouldn't if you didn't ask. Do you truly think so little of me?” 

“Your little trick has hurt people and you don't seem to care because you think they deserved it,” Rictor said. “No one trusts you.” 

“I could have attempted to return your powers dozens of times in this meeting alone,” Pietro said, “but I did not. I want it to be your choice, Rictor. I want you to trust me.” 

“Why?” 

Pietro didn't answer. He moved forward, grabbed Rictor by the shoulders, spun him around and pushed him against the desk. The edge dug into the small of Rictor's back. 

Rictor knew he could push Pietro away, easily, before Pietro could touch him with bare skin. Even depowered, he was stronger than Pietro who, despite having some sort of power, looked unhealthy. Possibly because of the crystals, eating away at him. Possibly because of something else. In the dark, the bruises under Pietro's eyes were well-hidden, but Rictor knew they were there. Just like his own. 

“I'm not going to hurt you,” Pietro said. He leaned forward and his lips touched Rictor's, feather-light, before he could move away. 

Rictor felt no change. “What are you doing?” 

“I know you, Rictor,” Pietro murmured. 

Rictor's breath hitched. Pietro's lips curved up, and Rictor thought, “Arrogant bastard.” 

He kissed the smirk right off Pietro's face. 

Pietro gasped, then was cut off. Rictor pushed him back, one hand grasping at Pietro's hair. He shoved the other man up against the door, didn't let him come up for air, and with his other hand, reached down for Pietro's pants. 

A cool hand slapped his away. “No,” Pietro muttered. 

“Because I'm a man?” Rictor challenged. 

Pietro laughed. “Because I prefer not to.” He cut off any reply Rictor could make, and Rictor returned in kind. His grip on Pietro's hair tightened, and he pulled his head back, exposing his neck. Pietro made a keening noise. 

“Trust me,” Rictor growled. He placed his lips to Pietro's neck, which was warm. He had the urge to hurt the other man, but Pietro was tense, and instead he trailed rough kisses down Pietro's throat and back up. 

Pietro's teeth pierced his lips, and he felt warm blood well up. 

The sharp, metallic taste brought everything into focus. He pulled away from Pietro, wiped his stinging mouth, and said, “I should go.” 

“You'll be back,” Pietro said. He looked just as off-kilter as Rictor felt. 

“Sure.” Rictor picked up his coat, which at some point had fallen on the floor, and pushed past Pietro to open the door. 

“Will you trust me?” Pietro asked. Quiet, almost like he thought if he asked it enough, Rictor would give him the answer he needed. 

“Why should I?” Rictor said. 

Just before he closed the door he heard Pietro say, softly, “Because no one else does.”


End file.
